


There But For the Grace of...

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time the front door opens, Burt is sitting in his favorite spot on the couch, pretending to watch TV.</p><p>set during 3x14 ("On My Way")</p><p>warnings: events of the episode, specifics below before the text of the story</p>
            </blockquote>





	There But For the Grace of...

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [There But For the Grace of God](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738065) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



_Warnings for an off-screen (in the fic) suicide attempt, homophobia._

When Burt answers the phone in his office at the shop he assumes it's a customer or maybe Lou letting him know he can't get those rims he needs for Mrs. Murphy's Caddy.

Instead it's Will calling him to tell him the news about the Karofsky kid, about him trying to kill himself after being harassed for being gay, about his father finding him, about him having an excellent prognosis.

"At least physically," Will adds. "They'll be doing a full psychological evaluation, and he'll be kept there for a few days on watch. That's standard for… for this kind of thing, just to make sure."

Burt will realize later that week that it's at this moment with Will's worried voice on the phone that the boy who bullied Kurt so badly he had to switch schools and leave his friends and his spark behind for a while stops being 'the Karofsky kid' and starts being Dave in his mind. He stops being a monster they need to try to leash and starts being a child, a child hurting so much he'd made a terrible, nearly permanent choice because of everything that life and his classmates were hurling at him.

Right now, though, all he can think of is Kurt.

All he can think about is how Kurt will react to the news.

Burt knows there's nothing he can do to protect him. He wouldn't shield him from the truth, even if he could; he never has. But he still wishes he could spare Kurt the pain. That's what being a parent is: wanting to spare your kid every bit of pain life can throw - and it throws too much at everybody - but having your heart break as you try to teach him how to survive it instead. It's bursting with pride from watching your child overcome all of the people who wanted to keep him down, but a part of you always wishing he didn't have to face them in the first place.

"Figgins is going to make an announcement to the student body in a little while," Will says, "but Emma and I are thinking of pulling Kurt aside first. I don't know if he should learn about it in the auditorium with everyone else. There will be counselors available, but..."

Burt nods and finds his gaze resting on the framed picture he has on his desk of Kurt with his mother, just a helpless newborn in her arms, and the informal portrait beside it of Kurt, Carole, Finn, and himself at Christmas, Kurt looking so impossibly grown up and with a spark in his eyes at the camera that was probably meant for the boy who was taking the picture.

"Get Blaine, too," Burt says, because even though Blaine's not his son he knows him plenty well enough to be sure this'll hit him hard, too. "Don't let him hear it with the rest, either. Tell 'em together, maybe." He hopes Will will do that; the boys'll do better if they have each other to lean on.

"You're right. Of course. I should probably find Santana and Brittany, too. Shannon's going to talk to the football guys who were Dave's friends." He hears Will take a deep breath and let it out. "God. I know it's not as bad as it could be, thank goodness, but this is going to be tough."

"Yeah." Burt doesn't envy Will his job even on a good day - that's a heck of a lot of teenagers to try to get in line all at once - but he's never been good enough with words to think he could even start to get them all through this kind of thing. How do you explain something like this to anyone, nevertheless to kids so wrapped up in their hormones and own dramas they can't get any perspective? "Good luck," he says, meaning it.

Will's laugh is hollow. "Thanks."

"I'm going to wrap up here, head home." Burt looks around at the mess on his desk and decides it can wait another day to be sorted out. He doesn't know if the boys will want to talk when they get in, but he's going to be there, anyway. "Thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome. I don't know how Kurt's going to handle it, but I wanted you to be ready."

"Thanks," Burt says again, because this is yet another parenting challenge he could never have seen coming. He misses the days when Kurt's worst problems could be solved with a hug, a bandaid, or an emergency trip to the dry cleaners. He'd thought being a parent _then_ was tough, but the problems of teenagers are taking every bit of him and then some to help his boys through.

And even then they get the better of him sometimes; Finn wanting to get married this year is one of the craziest things he's heard in a long time, and he's still not sure how that's going to turn out. Although right now even that feels like a good problem to have.

"I should call his dad," he realizes, thinking of sitting across from Mr. Karofsky more than once in the principal's office. "Paul."

"That's a nice thought, Burt. I'm sure he's at the hospital now, but..."

"I can leave a message." God knows what he'll say, but he's got to say something. It's the right thing to do.

"Yes. This'll be hard on him, too."

Burt wants to laugh at what an understatement that is, but then Will doesn't have kids of his own. "Hard doesn't even begin to describe it," he says. "Only way it could be worse for him would be if Dave had succeeded."

He can't think of how he'd feel if Kurt ever tried to -

Burt turns away and starts to shrug out of his coveralls; he feels like he's been hollowed out even just dancing around the edge of that thought.

When he was a newlywed the first time, they'd gone on a road trip through the Appalachians, and they'd misjudged the timing and the weather and had ended up snaking through narrow mountain passes in the pitch dark in the driving rain. Burt had forced himself to focus on the pavement right in front of his lights and not think about anything else until they were down in the safety of the valley, because he knew if he really looked around at the danger of the slick roads with only tiny guardrails between them and a terrible plunge down the mountain he'd have frozen so fast with terror at the situation he'd have been unable to drive. He couldn't think about just how close they were to something so awful if one little thing went wrong.

This feels like that, only a million times worse. He's got to do instead of think. He's got to keep his eyes on the road.

So he hangs up with Will, talks to his guys about their work for the day, heads home, calls Carole, and waits for school to get out. That valve in the laundry room has been giving them trouble, so he gets out his tools and tackles the problem. It suddenly seems a lot less tricky than it had over the weekend when he'd looked at it.

When the valve is fixed and he's replaced the dryer belt that was causing that squeaking noise, he picks up the phone again and leaves a message on the Karofsky answering machine. It seems entirely inadequate, but what could he possibly say that would mean anything to them beyond that he and Carole are thinking of their family and would like to help in any way they can?

By the time the front door opens, Burt is sitting in his favorite spot on the couch, pretending to watch TV. One of the best things about having three hundred channels is that there's always a game on, even just a repeat.

Kurt freezes just inside the door, his bag already half off of his shoulder like he was just going to dump it on the floor instead of setting it to the side like usual. "Dad," he says, his voice quiet and surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Will called me. I thought I'd get some stuff done around here today."

"Oh."

When Kurt steps out of the sun and his face is no longer backlit, Burt can see just how drawn his expression his. There's a liquid shine and a hollowness to his eyes Burt hasn't seen in over a year, since before Dalton, and as much as he tries to be better than that a part of him hates that Dave has done this to Kurt _again_.

Kurt walks slowly and deliberately over to the stairs and sets his bag on the second step up. He stands there, his back to Burt and his shoulders looking so much _smaller_ than they had that very morning when he'd bounced out the door to have coffee with Blaine before school. It's like only his shadow has come home.

"Where's Blaine?" Burt would have thought the two would have been even more joined at the hip than usual with this kind of news.

"He's helping Mr. Schue with something." Kurt shrugs and jerks his head up as he turns towards Burt.

Burt doesn't believe that anything Will could have asked for could have kept Blaine from Kurt's side if both of the boys had wanted him there. Knowing the two of them and the way Blaine's eyes follow Kurt around even when Kurt's wrapped up in his own world, he's pretty sure it's Kurt who wants the distance.

It doesn't make a lot of sense, but the whole day is proof teenagers don't make much sense.

"I'm going to get some water," Kurt says. "Would you like anything?"

Burt doesn't really, but it'll get Kurt to come back, so he says, "Sure. Water'd be great. Thanks, Kurt."

Kurt nods and drifts off, returning with two tall glasses of ice water, and when he hands one to his father, Burt pats the couch beside him.

"Sit."

There's a second during which Burt's pretty sure Kurt's going to argue, but then Kurt sinks down onto the cushion, his glass held in two hands between his knees and his eyes focused on it.

Burt gives him a minute in case he wants to start, but after the silence goes on long enough he asks, "You okay, kid?"

Kurt turns just enough that he can shoot him a pretty poor version of his usual glare out of the corner of his eye. "Why do people keep asking me that?"

"Probably because they can see your face."

Kurt's expression pinches even further, but it looks like there's a hint of exasperation in among the misery. Burt calls it a win. "Of course I'm not okay."

One of the things that most worried Burt when Kurt's mother died was that he wasn't a talker. He didn't know how he was going to teach his son all of the things he needed to know when Burt had never expected to have figure out how to say them. The thing is, though, that Kurt will do a lot of the talking if he lets him. Giving him silence in which to speak has turned out to be one of the best gifts Burt could give Kurt.

And Kurt's a good listener, so Burt doesn't have to say most things over and over again when it _is_ his turn.

But it's not his time right now, so Burt makes a sound of acknowledgement and waits for Kurt to continue the thought.

"Dave's been calling me," Kurt says finally.

It takes everything Burt has not to jump on that with the fury that comes with the idea. "He's been harassing you again?"

Kurt shakes his head. "No. I've seen him a couple of times this year, and he's been different." He hesitates for just a second, like he's trying out a word in his head. "Nicer."

"Nicer." It's impossible for Burt to think of that word applying to Dave, no matter how much he's clearly been hurting about his secret. And then he realizes it might not have been a secret to everyone, and maybe that was part of the problem.

"Did you know about him?" Burt asks. "Him being gay?"

Kurt looks over, startled, and then draws himself up like he's getting ready for an argument. "Yes."

"Since when?"

"I don't see why that matters."

"Kurt, he chased you out of school, threatened to kill you, and if - "

"Dad, he tried to _kill himself_ ," Kurt snaps back. "This is not the time."

It stops Burt cold. Right. He needs to listen. "You're right," he says. "Sorry."

Kurt nods, and after a moment he sets his glass down on the side table, sinks back against the cushions, and deflates again. "He was calling me," he says with quiet despair. "He was calling me all week, and I didn't answer."

"You don't owe him anything, Kurt."

Kurt's hand flutters on his leg, but whatever gesture he means to make is lost on Burt. "When Mr. Schue told me about… all I could think of was the number of missed calls beside his name on my phone. How many times he reached out, and I didn't - " He breaks off and swallows, his eyes shining with tears.

"You don't owe him anything," Burt says again, because there may be a lot of gaps in his knowledge about Dave, but that's one thing he's sure of.

"It's not about _owing_ ; it's about being there."

"I get this is upsetting to you, but it's not your job to - "

"Dad," Kurt says, a strength rising in his voice despite how watery it is. "I could have been him. Not bullying other kids, not that, but I - I could have hated myself like he does."

There's that thought again, that yawning, pitch black pit of horror, and Burt sets it aside and keeps his eyes on the road. "If you _ever_ feel even a little like that, you've got to remember you can come to me, to Carole, Blaine, even your brother, because - "

"That's the point, Dad," Kurt replies. "I had you. I remember how badly I didn't want it to be true, being gay. I remember how much it hurt. If I hadn't had you then, Mercedes, even Rachel - if I hadn't had people who loved me anyway - "

"There's no 'anyway', Kurt. We love _you_."

Kurt smiles a little at the interjection before drawing in a shuddering breath. "I know. And I'm happy with who I am. But Dave, he doesn't have any of that. He has me. And I didn't answer my phone."

Burt leans forward, his elbows on his thighs. "This isn't your fault."

"People seriously need to stop saying that to me," Kurt says. "Blaine's been a broken record about it all day, but - "

"He's right. Kurt, I know you feel bad, but you've got to get it through your head that it isn't your fault."

"He only had _me_ , Dad," Kurt tells him, and some of the pain in his eyes is replaced with annoyance.

It's a warning sign of Kurt's temper, but Burt doesn't know what to say to make Kurt hear him; this is so _obvious_. "That doesn't make it your fault. If he'd been a friend instead of pushing you around - "

Kurt stands up abruptly, his mouth set. "You don't understand."

Burt knows this is a common refrain among teenagers, but it isn't something he often hears from Kurt because they're so unlike each other they seem to start from the idea that they're speaking two different languages and try to translate where they can as they go. "So explain it to me," he says just as firmly.

"I've been _trying_."

"Try some more."

"Then try to stop telling me I shouldn't have answered my phone," Kurt snaps.

Burt sighs and adjusts his cap on his head. "I'm only saying you didn't _have_ to answer your phone."

"And I'm saying if I _had_ he might not have tried to _hang_ himself in his _closet_ with his _belt_."

It's brutal to hear it like that, so blunt and spit out with such anger and pain, and it takes Burt a second to pull himself back from the edge. "Hindsight is 20/20, Kurt," he says, because life is a series of decisions you have to make blindly, without full knowledge of the consequences. You can only do your best.

"Yes," Kurt replies, hushed but hard, like he's making a different point entirely, and turns without another word. His footsteps are soft as he goes up the stairs.

Burt sighs and rubs his forehead. That could have gone better. He'll have to give Kurt some time, try again after dinner.

He goes back to the game, wondering whether Carole might be better for the job of talking to Kurt - or at least better at listening and not interrupting when it comes to this subject, because she's more gentle and, as much as she loves Kurt, a little more removed from the emotion of it all - but uneasy about handing over the responsibility.

A bit later, the doorbell rings, and he's only a little surprised to find Blaine standing there, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his brow furrowed.

Burt steps back to let him in, but Blaine stays on the porch and asks, "Is Kurt here?"

"Yep. Up in his room."

Blaine's gaze drifts into the house; the rest of him stays put. "He doesn't know I'm coming." It explains a bit of his hesitation, if he's not sure of his welcome.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see you," Burt says. Blaine still doesn't move. "Come on in before you let all the heat out. It's still winter out there."

That gets Blaine moving, and for once Burt's grateful to that part of Blaine that seems desperately eager to please. He worries about it most of the time, worries that people will take advantage of it, maybe even Kurt, but right then it gets him in the house. That's good enough.

"Maybe you should see if he - " Blaine glances toward the stairs.

"He'll want to see you. Take your coat off."

Blaine nods, and his hands are a little clumsy as he works at his buttons.

"How're _you_ doing?" Burt asks, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder to get his attention again.

Blaine's head snaps up, and he squares his jaw like he's trying to be mature. Usually it works; right now, he looks like a kid pretending to be a grown-up. It's exactly what he is, Burt reminds himself. "I'm okay. Obviously, it's a horrible thing, but it could have been worse."

Burt lets him go and says, "Doesn't mean it's easy."

"No, of course not." Blaine slips off his coat and goes into the closet to put it on a hanger, like he always does. "But I hope he'll get the help he needs now."

"I meant it isn't easy for you."

Blaine's movements slow as he hooks the hanger back on the rod and closes the door. "I'm more worried about Kurt," he says, and Burt likes him that much more for not denying his own feelings outright. Blaine doesn't say anything else, but he watches Burt's face like he's trying to figure out how much he knows.

"Nearly took my head off for telling him it wasn't his fault," Burt offers, because he listens to his son, too, and remembers what he said about Blaine.

Blaine's shoulders fall in relief. "Mine, too. I mean, we've both tried to help Karofsky come to terms with who he is, but there's only so much we could do when he wasn't ready. And he and Kurt, he was - " He stops himself from continuing that thought, and Burt doesn't know if it's for his sake or Blaine's own. "We couldn't know this was going to happen."

Burt thinks of these two boys, both physically threatened by this kid in the past and still trying to help him, and he wants to sweep them up in a hug and tell them how proud he is of them even as he wants to stand between their big hearts and the world out there that's going to try to crush them again and again.

And they're just kids, too. They shouldn't have to worry about this kind of thing. They should be out having fun, going to the movies, stealing a few extra kisses in the car before curfew, not trying to guide another kid through one of the most difficult issues of a person's identity. Burt sure couldn't have helped anybody when he was their age; he's not all that great at it now.

It doesn't seem right that Kurt and Blaine both have been through a hell of a lot more than he has when it comes to this sort of thing. They've been bullied and threatened badly enough to have to leave school. They've been told by their peers and the society around them that there's something wrong with them just for feeling love. They've had to stand up for who they are over and over, and as much as Burt is proud of them for standing tall it still feels like way too much weight on their shoulders at this young age. Or any age.

As hard as it is to think about it, Burt knows Kurt's right. Either of them could have been Dave. Either of them could have had a little less support, a little less self-confidence, maybe even a little bit less of each other, and have found themselves in that same deep well of despair. Either of them could have made that same stupid, unthinkable decision.

"I'm proud of you both," Burt says, putting his arm around Blaine's shoulders for a moment, pulling him against his side in a hug, and Blaine's smile wobbles at the edges. Burt wonders not for the first time what the hell his parents have _said_ to him over the years. "And you're right. Just give him a little time; he'll figure it out, too, once he's past the shock of it. Most of the time it's a good thing, but sometimes that big heart of his gets in the way."

"I just want him to be okay," Blaine says. "He had _no reason_ to pick up Karofsky's calls and plenty of reasons to ignore them. He couldn't have known."

Burt narrows his eyes, wondering where the truth lies between Kurt's version of their relationship and Blaine's; it's probably somewhere in the middle. "Give him a little time," he says again.

Blaine nods, and he bites his lip as he glances over at the stairs.

"You can go on up," Burt tells him.

"He doesn't know I'm coming," Blaine says. "He might not want - "

There's only so much of that Burt can take. "Kurt!" he yells. "You have a visitor!"

Blaine blinks, but then his attention focuses on the footsteps coming down the hallway and descending the stairs.

"Blaine," Kurt says softly when he sees him, his eyes going watery but in a way that feels a lot less worrying in Burt's chest. He holds out a hand, and Blaine trots up the stairs to take it.

Burt finds the closet door very interesting for a minute, and he hears Blaine murmur, just this side of desperate, "I don't want to fight with you."

"Then don't fight with me," Kurt replies, equally quiet but with a bit of that hard edge of determination he'd had with Burt. "We can talk about other things."

"Okay." Blaine doesn't sound happy about it, but Burt's not surprised he accepts Kurt's terms. You have to pick your fights with Kurt, your timing. It's kind of encouraging to Burt that Blaine knows that about his son.

"Dad?" Kurt's mouth is still tight, his posture hunched like he doesn't have the energy to stand with his usual precision, but he looks a little more like himself when he meets Burt's eyes.

"Door open," Burt tells him, answering the unspoken part of Kurt's query with as much normalcy as he can. "Finn's not home, so play whatever music you want as long as the pictures don't fall off the walls. Dinner's at six, and there's plenty if Blaine wants to stay."

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt says, and Blaine smiles his gratitude, too, as Kurt leads him up the stairs.

Burt very deliberately doesn't go upstairs for the rest of the afternoon. He doesn't know what kind of comfort the boys will want to draw from each other - and he doesn't want to think about it too much or else he's going to go spend the next hour replacing the latch on the linen closet in the hallway outside Kurt's door - but he wants to give it to them.

All three boys are subdued at dinner, no sniping from Kurt about full-fat cheese and no simmering threat of a food fight between Finn and Blaine when they get down to the last roll. Carole does most of the talking, Blaine and Burt helping her out where they can, and if Kurt goes distant and tight-faced in the pauses, he loses some of that when Blaine oh-so-subtly puts his hand on Kurt's leg under the table.

Burt does the same to Carole and gets a smile in return.

He knows this is far from over. He knows Kurt's going to carry his misplaced guilt with him, because his heart is too big for its own good; Burt can't help but love him all the more for it, as much as it breaks his own heart at the pain his son is facing.

Parenting is starting with a newborn so vulnerable he can't find his hand at the end of his own arm and watch him grow up, learn, and walk away step by step, day by day. Parenting is about trying to get all of the right stuff in there while you can and knowing when it's time to stand back while your kid goes to tackle life his own way. You hope you gave him enough, but you never know 'til you see him use it.

Even though he hates that Kurt is upset he wasn't there for Dave as a friend when he needed one, Burt is also a little happy about it. He's proud that his son is a compassionate young man. He's proud that Kurt has kindness to extend to others. He could have grown up hard and cold from what life has dealt him, from the death of his mother to his voice to his orientation, but instead the more love he receives from others the more he seems to have to share.

Burt watches his son carefully divide the last roll in half and offer the pieces to his brother and boyfriend while his step-mother looks on in amusement. It's Kurt's family. It's _Burt's_ family: his son he never expected to raise alone, his wife he never expected to find at all, his new son who has filled a hole in his heart he wishes he didn't have, and his almost-son who will be a part of his family no matter what happens between him and Kurt in the future.

Life is tough for everyone, Burt knows. It just is. That's why people have friends, get married, have families; it's easier when you've got other people beside you to help you weather the storms. And today's storm is a doozy.

He knows he's going to be happier than usual to curl up around Carole and bury his face in her hair when they go to bed tonight, because he doesn't have to figure all of this out alone. But then neither does Kurt. Neither does Blaine. They have each other, and they have this family who loves them.

They _all_ have each other, and they won't be together like this for that much longer.

"We should hit Scoops after dinner," Burt says, taking advantage of the post-roll lull in the conversation.

Finn perks up at the mention of ice cream, and Blaine looks over at Burt in polite surprise.

"I hardly think there's anything to celebrate with empty calories, Dad," Kurt replies as he toys with his salad with his fork.

"We're all here," Burt tells him. He reaches out for Carole's hand, this time on top of the table, and she squeezes it like she always does. "That's reason enough for me."


End file.
